


Up in the Club

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Modern [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform, errybody in the club get tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Hiccup lets his cousin drag him to the club.





	Up in the Club

**Up in the Club**

**-**

“Her name’s Astrid and I’m gonna marry her.” Snotlout’s elbow was heavy on Hiccup’s shoulder. His breath smelled like booze as he sighed heavily, a dreamy expression making his eyes shine.

“What makes you think she wants to marry  _you?_ ” Hiccup retorted, shrugging off his cousin. “Can you even walk straight?” Stabbing his finger into Snotlout’s chest, he snorted when the little nudge nearly sent him stumbling.

“Not relevant,” his cousin slurred. “And  _yes_. She’s got it bad for the Snot.”

Hiccup raised a brow at him before glancing back over to the girl dancing under one of the several flashing strobe lights. Blonde and beautiful, she was out of Snotlout’s league, which meant she was  _definitely_  out of Hiccup’s league. Her hands were held high above her head as she danced, her eyes closed and her lips mouthing the words to whatever fast-paced song the DJ had put on. There was another girl dancing with her, dark haired and also lovely, but the blonde was in her own little world. 

"I need you to wingman for me,” Snotlout announced, setting down his beer. His gaze narrowed as he watched the sway of the girl’s hips as she moved.

“What do you need a wingman for?” Hiccup replied, taking a sip of his own drink. “She’s got it bad for the Snot, remember?”

His cousin rolled his eyes. How had he been able to talk him into coming down for the weekend again? “Can you just please dance with Heather so I can get my  _in_? She’s been cock-blocking me all night.”

“I assume Heather’s the brunette?" 

"And Astrid’s best friend. Get me past Heather and I’ll get to go home a lucky man tonight.” Snotlout rubbed his palms together like a criminal mastermind plotting world domination.

Hiccup suddenly decided that there was absolutely nothing he wanted more than to see than his cousin humiliating himself. He threw back the rest of his liquor and cringed at the acrid taste before nodding. “Cool. Let’s do it.”

“Yeah!” Snotlout shouted over the blaring music. “That’s my cuzzo!” With a rough shove, he pushed Hiccup away from the safety of the bar and through a mass of people. Once they dropped down the stairs, it took him a second to find the pair of girls through the crowd. But then Astrid’s hair glinted under the lights and he caught them. 

He was only realizing how terrible of an idea this was as he moved to approach them. Heat pressed in on them from every side, and he got the occasional hip check or elbow to the side as he tried to push forwards. Abrupt awkwardness seized him, making him want to turn on his heel and run, but Snotlout gave him another jostle, and Hiccup found himself bumping into Heather.

She moved back a step, looking up at him with surprise and a flash of irritation.

“i’m sorry!” he cringed, trying to force his knees to bounce to something like a rhythm. He held out his hands apologetically. “Slippery floors. Fake foot. Bad combination!”

Her lips pursed, and the girl’s gaze swept down to the curved steel of Hiccup’s prosthesis before flicking back up. The annoyance melted from her features. “No problem!” she yelled back, leaning in a smidge so he could hear. Resuming her dancing, she gave him a quizzical look. “You’re not a regular, are you?”

“Ah, no,” Hiccup felt her step closer to him as the crowds pressed in. He wasn’t sure where Snotlout had gone, and though he could see her blonde hair, they’d gotten separated from Astrid. “I’m in town visiting family.”

She nodded her understanding. “Kay then. I bar-tend here, and I didn’t think—” The rest of her words were lost to a tide of dropping bass and screeching. 

“Huh?”

She pressed her body against hers, and Hiccup had to resist flushing. A city boy he was  _not_. Clubbing— i.e. having women rub all over him— was not a thing he was accustomed to. “I  _said_ , ‘I didn’t think I’d seen you around’!”

“Oh! Yeah.” For a moment, he was flabbergasted, unsure what to do with the girl dancing cheerfully but provocatively against him. Then he stammered, “I’m, uh— I’m Hiccup.”

“Hiccup?” she asked, brow furrowed as if she might have heard him wrong. At her nod, she shrugged and grinned. “I’m Heather.”

He was about to reply with  _I know_ , but before his drunk tongue could get him in trouble, a flash of blonde broke between them. 

“Hide me!” Astrid shouted to her best friend, angling Heather awkwardly at her side. “It’s Snotlout again!” As if just noticing that the brunette had been previously occupied, she blinked up at Hiccup. “Who’s this?”

Heather giggled, though the noise was drowned out. “This is Hiccup! One-legged out-of-towner! Blushes when you grind on him!”

Astrid seemed to take in his baffled gaping, his awful dancing, and the physics t-shirt under his jacket for a moment. Then her eyes widened a little bit. “Perfect!”

He was about to ask for an explanation when she suddenly reached for his belt and jerked him towards her. His yelp was unbefitting a man of his age, but luckily some overpaid rapper’s terrible lyrics gave him some cover. Before he knew what was happening, Astrid was holding him tightly in front of her, then pulling Heather behind her. When she started dancing again, narrowing her gaze at something in the distance, Hiccup figured it out. She was using him as a shield. From his own cousin.

It wasn’t exactly the humiliation he’d expected for Snotlout when he’d agreed to take to the dance floor, but it was satisfying enough. Not to mention that despite the faint scent of sweat, Astrid smelled like wildflowers and clean laundry. She wasn’t a bad dancer, either. 

“So.” He tried to make conversation, as he had been with Heather before they’d been interrupted. “Are you a bartender too?" 

The song changed. Astrid closed her eyes and lifted a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. “No talking! Just dancing!” 

Hiccup blinked over her shoulder at Heather, who grinned and shrugged. 

So he obeyed, letting her use him as part of her sandwich-esque fortress. Her arms moved freely above her head, but he was unsure of where to put his. He felt Heather find his fumbling hands and rest them loosely on Astrid’s waist. Absently, he wondered how well strobe lights concealed bright red cheeks. He was a wing-man getting wing-manned by somebody else’s wing-man. Wing-woman.

Maybe he shouldn’t have knocked back that drink so quickly. 

Astrid pressed into him, blonde hair tickling his arms when it flew over her shoulders. The way she swayed and moved, it was starting an exciting friction against his thigh and and chest. He could feel the shape of her curves against him— the soft press of her breasts, the button of her tiny shorts, the digging of something at her hip that could have been either a cell phone or mace. Hiccup had to admit, he liked the way she twisted and writhed against him. Her dancing wasn’t the best by far, but she was far from incompetent and pretty enough for it not to matter.

He noticed Heather leaning forward to say something in Astrid’s ear, and then the blonde glanced up at him. Suddenly nervous, he attempted to say something, but she pressed her finger to his mouth once more. This time she didn’t close her eyes. And when she dropped her finger, she let her hand rest on his shoulder. Her other slid down his chest and around his side before hooking into his pocket. 

She guided his hips against hers, tilting side to side with exaggerated slowness. The deafening song they were moving to was crooning something about partying all night and being young, and it was completely  _not_  Hiccup’s thing, but Astrid’s slithering up and down his body?  _That_  could be his thing. Her gaze searched his face curiously as she danced, her movements becoming more and more sultry— almost like a test. 

He wasn’t sure how to pass this pop quiz. He let one palm smooth up to the small of her back and gently press her closer. He could feel Heather’s stomach pressing into the back of his hand, but that was nothing compared to the heat that suddenly blazed to life when Astrid’s expression turned hungry. 

"Most guys would take this opportunity to feel me up,” she shouted up at him. 

So was that an A+? Or an F?

“I figured if you wanted more you wouldn’t be afraid to ask,” he replied. Speaking of most guys, where had Snotlout gone?

Astrid’s mouth curled into a smile that he found almost devious. Then he felt her slip her knee between his and she was  _dear gods she was grinding_ on his thigh. Her hand snaked into his hair so she could bring her lips to his ear and say, “More.”


End file.
